Of Princes and Secret Sorcerers
by SilveryMoon34
Summary: When a cursed wishing stone shatters, Arthur and Merlin not only switch places, but their entire lives. May contain some mild slash later on.
1. A fine orange dust

**A/N: …What ifs are very dangerous in my hands. You have been warned. Enjoy the fruits of my strange mind =). Reviews make writer wannabes (me!) very happy!**

**Of Princes and Secret Sorcerers**

The day It happened was a day like any other. Arthur slunk like a hunting cat through the forest undergrowth, crossbow up and ready. A giant, beautiful buck stood in a clearing a mere dozen feet away, completely unaware of the stalking Prince's presence. He aimed carefully, licking his lips in anticipation…

"_Arthur!_" A certain sharp, slightly whiny voice burst out, somewhere near his right. Arthur shot, but the startled buck had already bolted away, disappearing into the other side of the clearing.

Arthur lowered his crossbow, sighing loudly. "_What, Mer_lin."

"Problem…Knights…" The boy wheezed. Concern briefly touched Arthur-Merlin had said he was fine earlier, but it was obvious that the illness had a lingering grip-but he quickly shoved it away, thumping his manservant roughly on the shoulder.

"Spit it out, man!" He growled impatiently.

As it turned out, Merlin didn't have to. Screams and shouts drifted toward them from where Arthur and Merlin had split with the knights. Arthur swore, drawing his sword and sprinting toward the commotion, Merlin right behind.

A sorceress, a vengeful blonde ringed in green fire, was wreaking havoc when they arrived. The knights were scattered before her onslaught, cowering behind trees to avoid her fire.

Arthur sighed again, raising his sword. He felt a cold chill pass over him briefly as Merlin quietly rattled off a charm to ward against fire, touching Arthur's shoulder lightly.

The Prince approached slowly, sword up, as if he were still stalking the buck, his feet gliding noiselessly over the spongy earth. A good plan, except he failed to account for enemy wards.

He triggered one. A high pitched, piercing one note blast split the air. He felt a flash of heat, but was saved from the worst of it as Merlin's charm took effect, pushing the resulting plume of fire away, back toward its creator.

The plume didn't harm her-she dissipated it with a simple wave of her hand-but the ensuing smoke cloud provided enough cover for Arthur to spring forward, slamming the hilt of his sword against her forehead. She collapsed in an undignified heap at the Prince's feet.

He looked around to see the knights slowly come out of hiding. "Well done, _brave _knights." He said sarcastically. "Secure the prisoner. We're returning to Camelot."

As the knights moved to do as their Prince commanded, Merlin drew nearer, to stand by his royal friend. "You're never going to let them live this down, are you?" He asked, grinning.

"Oh noo." He half turned, clapping his manservant's shoulder. "Good work, Merlin. Now be a good servant for once and go fetch my horse."

"Yes _Sire_." Merlin walked off, shaking his head at his Prince, slightly goofy grin still in place.

As the knights hoisted the unconscious sorceress onto Sir Gwaine's horse, something small and glittering dropped on the ground. Curious, Arthur picked it up, absently pocketing it. He would examine it in more detail later.

Later that evening, Arthur lounged in his favorite chair by the fire. Somewhere behind him, Merlin bustled about, clearing up the remainder of their shared dinner.

The curiosity needled at him again, burrowing like a splinter beneath his skin until he finally drew the thing out of his pocket, holding it up to the firelight.

It was quite small-about a quarter if the size of his palm-and perfectly round. Backlit by the flames, it looked like an orange-red rock, though it felt as delicately smooth as glass in his fingers.

"Merlin?"

"Yes Arthur?"

"What do you think this is?" He turned, showing his manservant/secret sorcerer the rock. Merlin approached Arthur's chair for a better look, wiping his hands on a towel.

He blinked, surprised, squinting at the thing. "It…It looks like a wishing stone, but I've never heard of one that color before. Where'd you get it?"

Arthur held it up to the light again, watching the colors dance at its center. "Found it, near the sorceress captured this morning."

Merlin's gray-blue eyes widened in alarm. "Arthur, put it down. There's not telling what she might have done to it."

Arthur threw him an annoyed look. "_Mer_lin, it's a _rock_, not a giant anaconda. I think I can handle it." He turned his attention back to the stone, wondering idly if it was really as delicate as it felt…

"_Arthur_." Merlin whined urgently, but his voice sounded too far away to be important, so Arthur ignore him.

Almost without his conscious consent, his fingers curled around the stone, squeezing. The thing shattered, but not like glass; when his fingers loosened, a fine orange-red, glittering powder fell out in a thick stream, like in an hourglass. Arthur watched the stream, mesmerized, his eyelids growing heavier and heavier, finally sliding shut…

**A/N: Sorry that this is really short and not very interesting. I promise, the next chapter will be better.**


	2. Merlin Pendragon

**A/N: Did anyone do a major Merthur fan girl squeal at this chapter's title? (I did!) But alas, my friends, its not like that. *sighs* maybe some day… Anywhoo, thanks to everyone who was kind and patient enough to keep reading this story, even after its not very interesting beginning. You rock, and I hope this chapter makes up for it =).**

Arthur's mind made the slow crawl back to consciousness reluctantly. He couldn't recall having ever slept this well in his life, and he was unwilling to give it up.

"Get up, sleepyhead." Said a voice-a _female _voice. Definitely not Merlin.

Silence, for a moment. Then _wham_, a pillow made rough contact with the back of his head. He jerked awake, all but jumping out of the bed.

"_Gwen_!" He yelped. _Guinevere, _of all people, was standing over him, pillow in hand, a deceptively innocent smile on her face. "What the _hell _are you doing here?"

"Getting you up, obviously. Gaius isn't here to do it, and you obviously can't do it yourself."

_What_? Then he noticed where he was. He was in Merlin's room, in _Merlin's bed_. He looked down at himself. He was wearing a simple tan cotton nightshirt. _What the hell…?_

He raised his head to put the question to Guinevere, but she had already gone into the other room. "Get dressed, Arthur. You don't want to keep poor Prince Merlin waiting."

Arthur's jaw literally dropped. _Prince MERLIN? _But then he shook his head. Morgana must have put them up to this. She had been hinting at having finally figured out a foolproof way to humble him for a while now. Forcing him to play servant to 'Prince' Merlin would certainly do it. He drew himself up proudly. Very well. Let the lady play her game. A prince could be humble, when he wanted, and he sure as _hell _wouldn't let her win by refusing to play.

He bounded out of the bed, turning toward Merlin's tiny closet. Pulling it open, he made a face at its contents. Simple, homespun tunics-two red, one white, one tan, and one blue-and equally plain breeches hung inside. He sighed, picking out a red tunic and the least worn-looking pair of breeches. At least there were no bloody _neckerchiefs_.

Once dressed, he stepped out into Gaius's study. "Gwen?" But the handmaiden was nowhere in sight. Instead, a hot bowl of something that looked suspiciously like white goo sat on one of Gaius's worktables, a scratched spoon sitting forlornly beside it.

Arthur took a deep breath. _Suck it up, Pendragon. Better this than hearing Morgana brag for the rest of your life. _He wolfed the stuff down as quick as possible, trying not to think about how the congealed goo stuck to the roof of his mouth, or how much it tasted like burnt rice.

Once he was done, he dropped the bowl on the table and left, mentally cursing the king's ward in the foulest language he knew.

When he arrived at his rightful chambers, the sun was already up. _Late, just like Merlin._ With that in mind, Arthur shoved open the double doors, banging them loudly against the wall as he entered.

"Rise and shine, _Sire_." He drawled, a sarcastic edge to the last word. Merlin, a small lump curled beneath the giant bed's scarlet blankets, twitched slightly, but otherwise didn't react.

As Arthur stomped over to the curtains, an unpleasant thought occurred to him. Merlin, as his manservant, had seen Arthur partially naked nearly every day. He pulled another face as he reached for the curtains. He was definitely _not thrilled _with the thought of doing the same for Merlin. That skinny white…Arthur shuddered, yanking open the curtains.

The lump gave a small noise of protest, burrowing deeper beneath the blankets. Arthur sighed. _Get it over with_.

"Up." He ordered tersely, grabbing the blankets and unceremoniously ripping them off.

He was expecting to see something akin to a hairless white mole rat. To his surprise, Merlin's back was nearly flawless-more a slender snow bank than a rat.

"That's very _rude_, you know." From anyone else, that could have been called sarcastic; but since it came from Merlin, it sounded more like a whine.

The boy stretched-obviously enjoying the role reversal, Arthur thought-and slowly sat up, rubbing his face.

One grey-blue eye glanced toward the table. "You forgot breakfast again." Oh right. Merlin usually brought breakfast when he came to wake Arthur.

"Ah. Right." Arthur left.

Getting breakfast wasn't hard-not that he expected it to be-the cooks had it ready when he arrived. It was surreal, though. He kept expecting the busy tides of servants to stop, stare, to recognize their Prince and ask what he was doing down here, dressed like he was. But those who did see them merely smiled and waved, like he was one of them. _Morgana must have got them all in on it, too. _But a slight nudge of doubt nestled deep in the back of his mind, refusing to budge.

When Arthur returned, Merlin was already fully dressed-and halfway decently too, in a deep blue silk tunic, fine dark leather breeches, and calf high boots. _No neckerchief, _Arthur noted in surprise as he set out the breakfast. _Wonder what Morgana bargained to make _that _happen._

Arthur's guts twisted in jealousy at the breakfast-a king's banquet compared to the white goo he'd eaten earlier-but he stiffened his back, determined to keep at this game. He strode over to make the bed as Merlin sat down to eat.

After a few moments of silence-broken only by a quiet growl from Arthur as he struggled with the bedding-Merlin spoke.

"Are you all right, Arthur? You seem a bit…frazzled, this morning."

_As if you don't know_. Arthur bit that particular retort back, instead saying "Oh yes, I'm _fine_." in a sarcastic parody of Merlin's own words the day before. Merlin gave his back a strange look, but otherwise made no other comment.

Each finished their respective tasks in silence. Arthur looked down at the made bed proudly. Not bad, for a first attempt. Behind him, Merlin stood up, stretching.

"When you're done, come down to the training grounds. Some armor needs polishing." Merlin's tone was mild, offhand, but the command in it was obvious. Arthur glanced at his back in surprise as he strode out, wondering how Merlin had become quite the little actor without his noticing.

**…...**

On the training grounds, Arthur stared, dumbstruck, the polishing cloth and jar of polish forgotten in his limp grip. _Merlin was training with the knights._ Merlin, clumsy _Merlin_, was training with _his _knights. But that wasn't the most shocking part of the spectacle. The most shocking part was that Merlin was _beating them._ Knights he had handpicked and hand trained for years now were being _beaten _by his manservant.

When his eyes locked on said manservant, Arthur's jaw literally dropped for the second time that day. _They weren't letting him win._ Merlin's face was locked in an expression of cool concentration-much like Arthur's own when he trained-and each slice, thrust, and jab of his sword was smooth, intentional, _flawless._ Not a misstep nor wobble marred his footwork. The small nudge of doubt in the back of Arthur's mind stirred, growing, despite Arthur's refusal to acknowledge it. The alternative was impossible, _unknown._

"He's gotten good, hasn't he?" The sudden sound of Gwen's voice right next to him made him jump.

"Oh, hello Gwen." Arthur said calmly, attempting and failing to play it off. Her brown eyes glanced down, a slightly amused smile curling her lips. "Arthur, you're spilling the polish."

Arthur looked down and swore, dropping to clean the liquid off his boot. Gwen started to bend down to help him, but something else caught her eye. "Merlin!"

Merlin was striding toward them, chain mail glinting in the sunlight. Arthur suddenly found himself fighting to stop his jaw from hitting the ground a third time. For, in sunlight-dappled chain mail, his face flushed and eyes bright from the exercise, Merlin didn't look like the skinny little too-pale manservant Arthur knew. He looked like an angel-an angel prince.

"Gwen." They beamed at each other, making Arthur's gut twist weirdly. "Where's Morgana? Or are you wasting _another _one of your days off to watch a few prats in armor hack at each other?"

Gwen grinned. "You're not a prat, Merlin. And no, Morgana's over there." She pointed. Several feet away, near the stables, Morgana was speaking with-_flirting_ with, Arthur corrected himself as Morgana's fingers began twisting out a lock of dark hair-a visiting nobleman, who was very much enjoying the attention.

"God rest his soul." Arthur muttered to himself.

"What was that, Arthur?" Gwen asked, looking down at him curiously.

"Nothing." Arthur answered, a little too quickly.

"Arthur, when you're done polishing your boot, come with me." Again, words that would have sounded harsh and sarcastic from anyone else, only sounded like a mild little dig coming from Merlin.

As Arthur reluctantly stood up-he was starting to really resent being ordered about, no matter how mildly put-Merlin grinned at Gwen, giving a slight bow of his head to her as he started off. Arthur followed along behind with a quiet sigh.

**…...**

Back in the prince's chambers, Merlin stood with his back to Arthur, still as an undisturbed pond, waiting. Arthur stared at the back of his head, confused.

Merlin glanced back at him, amused. "Are you going to help me with this armor, or are you enjoying the view of my arse?"

Arthur glared at him, a slight flush of pink on his cheeks. His eyes had been _nowhere near _Merlin's nonexistent arse. "Shut up." He growled, stepping forward to help with the chain mail.

"That wasn't very polite." Merlin noted dryly.

Arthur clenched his teeth. "Shut up _sire_."

Merlin glanced back at him, brow crinkled a little in confusion. "You know that wasn't what I meant." He dropped his arm, half turning to face Arthur. "Are you sure you're all right? You don't seem like yourself today."

Arthur sighed. "Fine." He wished Merlin would give up this stupid game. He'd been humbled enough for one day.

The other boy's gaze softened. "You know, its just lunch, not a state dinner. You don't have to attend to me if you don't want to."

A small concession, given in earnest. Arthur shook his head, refusing it in a sudden flare of proud anger. He was Arthur Pendragon, dammit. He would _not _lose, no matter how ridiculous the game.

Merlin turned back to face front. "Okay."

Once the armor was off, Arthur went into the bathroom. He stared down at the tub forlornly. He _really did not _want to take the four or five trips it would take to fill the damn thing.

Suddenly, something shifted in his thoughts. He went hot, then cold, then back to normal. He blinked, surprised, then looked back at the tub.

_It was filled with water._ Steaming, actual _water_. Arthur backed away, staring in shock.

"Arthur?" Merlin called from the other room.

"Its ready!" Arthur yelled back in a thin, strangled voice.

"Oh good." As Merlin came in, Arthur escaped into the outer room, breathing hard as something akin to panic set in. _He just used magic. _He, Arthur Pendragon, _just used magic._ Oh _fuck._

**…...**

By the time Merlin finished his bath and came out-fully dressed again, thank God-Arthur managed to control his shaking. He was on auto pilot, a stage of crisis where the full reality of the crisis had yet to sink in. He honestly hope it stayed that way-it would be as unseemly to break down in front of the court as to serve it. _One humiliation at a time, please, _he thought dryly.

He followed Merlin into the great hall. Few members of the court were there-another small mercy-along with Morgana and-

He could have dropped from relief. _Father_. Father was here, too. Thank God. He'd put an end to Morgana's nonsense right away.

But as Merlin approached the royal table, Arthur in tow, his father didn't even look at him. His smile was directed…at _Merlin_.

"Merlin." He greeted warmly as Merlin took Arthur's usual seat between Arthur's father and Morgana. Merlin smiled in return, not the least bit afraid. Arthur glanced at Morgana as he filled Merlin's goblet. Had she convinced Father to play along, too?

Despite this newest shock, Arthur managed to get through the lunch with minimal rude comebacks, as he was able to ignore most of the equally rude comments directed at and about him…And then Morgana spoke up.

"Merlin." She purred, leaning her head slightly closer to Merlin's. Arthur idly noted how rather similar they looked-from this distance, with their dark hair, they could almost be mistaken for brother and sister. Except one had an acidic tongue, and the other was…well _Merlin_.

When Merlin looked at her, she continued. "Merlin, your servant is so _rude_. I've yet to understand your fondness for him."

Arthur stiffened, but refused to turn around, to rise to the obvious bait. He was doing too well…But then, as it turned out, he didn't have to.

"And I've yet to understand your fondness for baubles and hairbrushes, my lady." Merlin returned mildly, pink lips curling in a slight smile as he lifted his goblet to his mouth.

Arthur found his face relaxing into a smile as he turned to fill a particularly rude lady's glass (Lady Eleanor, if memory served) cheered by the thought that even through this ridiculous game, Merlin had his back, even if he did just technically equate him with baubles and hairbrushes.

The feeling was quickly marred by a jab of guilt, however. How many times had a similar question been put to Arthur, and he just laughed it off-or worse, insulted Merlin too?

Unlike Arthur, it didn't take Merlin long at all to finish his meal and call Arthur away, so both could return to their duties.

**…...**

Later that evening, after several exhausting chores and another trying round of serving nobles at dinner, Arthur collapsed on Merlin's bed, more tired than he could ever remember being in a very long time.

He was in the gray realm between the light of wakefulness and the calming darkness of sleep, when a voice whispered _Arthur_.

He half jumped out of bed, groping wildly for a sword that wasn't there. "Who's there? Show yourself!" He demanded, but nothing but silence and a slight breeze from the tiny window behind him answered him.

He had just got back into bed and had just started to relax, when the voice spoke again, louder this time. _Arthur Pendragon._

Arthur buried his head underneath the pillow, growling "Shut _up_."

_Arthur. Arthur. _The voice hissed, growing slightly dimmer, as if it was moving away. Arthur felt suddenly _compelled _to follow it. Swearing under his breath, he got up, slipping his boots back on.

He followed the voice down a corridor, then a tunnel he'd never seen before, hidden in plain sight near Gaius's chambers. He proceeded cautiously, wishing that he'd thought to stop by the armory and grab a sword. There was no telling what manner of _things _lived down here, and while he was still far from helpless, a sword was still an ideal thing to have when facing the unknown.

It wasn't long before the tunnel opened out into a giant cave, and the path dead-ended into a cliff. Arthur stared around in wonder. _Whoa_.

There was a loud swooping noise, and a creature from his wildest, worst nightmares was suddenly before him. The dragon looked down at him with glowing yellow eyes, glittering in the dim light from the torches behind him.

"So we finally meet, Arthur Pendragon." It rumbled, its formidable stare piercing right through him.

Arthur was still trying to process the impossible sight before him. "There's a dragon…under Camelot…"

"Yes." There was a slight hint of amusement in the dragon's growl.

"_How_?" Was all Arthur could think to gasp out in response, eyes wide.

"That matters not." The dragon rumbled. "There is something wrong in the world. You feel it, do you not?"

The nudge of doubt in the back of his mind stirred, and Arthur answered without thinking. "Yes."

The dragon's head swung closer, boring into Arthur's. "When you shattered the wishing stone, you unleashed an ancient curse that twisted reality itself. Merlin has become Merlin Pendragon, knight-prince of Camelot, born of Uther and Ygraine. You have become Arthur Emrys, his servant and sorcerer guardian. This is not how things must be. _You _are the one who is meant to lead Albion into a golden age of tolerance and magic, and Merlin is meant to aid you."

All doubt, all panic flew from Arthur's mind. Somehow, deep in his heart and soul, he knew that the dragon spoke the truth. "How do I break this curse?"

"Every wishing stone has a twin, a calming void to its chaos. Shatter this white stone, and the curse will be reversed."

"How do I-" But apparently, the dragon decided the conversation was over, because it suddenly took off, blasting him in the face with the gusts from its wings. Only a few vague words floated down to Arthur in answer to his unfinished question: "You will know it when you see it, young Pendragon."

What the hell kind of an answer was _that_?

**A/N: And there you go, the end of chapter 2! Hope you liked. Reviews are love and will be rewarded with virtual cookies. **


	3. Tale of two Princes

**A/N: Okay, this was originally supposed to be just one big ending chapter, but the end part was just too cute. I had to post it immediately! Hope you guys think so too. Enjoy =)**

The next morning, Arthur found himself studying Merlin, sizing him up, discreetly, over his shoulder as he made the bed.

So. Merlin really _was _a prince. So far, Arthur wasn't impressed. He still seemed like the same old Merlin…except…Well he wouldn't call it _arrogance_, exactly-Merlin just couldn't _do _arrogance, not even if he were proclaimed emperor over the known world-but now that he knew the truth, Arthur could see that he had a _swagger _to him now that was too natural to be acting. It was so foreign, yet so obviously _Merlin _that Arthur just found himself shaking his head in bafflement.

"If you're done trying to be sneaky," Merlin's amused voice broke into his thoughts. "Do you mind telling me what interests you so much about the back of my head?"

Arthur blinked in surprise. As far as he knew, Merlin never looked up from his bacon and eggs since sitting down to them a few minutes ago.

"I do _not _find the back of your oddly shaped head interesting." He snapped back, recovering. "I was merely noticing that you're not your usual chatty self this morning."

"And _you're _not your usual surly self this morning." Merlin countered. "Did you finally get up on the _right _side of the bed?"

It was the kind of comment Arthur would have usually smacked him for, but instead, he found himself smiling. Aside from the fact that he was making his own bed-which Merlin had currently taken over-the banter made things seem back to normal.

"Perhaps." Arthur replied with a nonchalant shrug. He did feel better today-like he no longer carried the world on his shoulders. He never realized how heavy and all-consuming a burden being Camelot's Prince and sole heir apparent was, until the burden was suddenly gone.

"Right." Merlin took another loud, crunchy, and very unprincely bite of a particularly large strip of bacon. "Here's something else to brighten your day: Father needs me in council, so you have the rest of the day off." He continued this around the crunchy mouthful.

"Really."

"Yes really." Merlin bounced out of his chair, striding toward the door. "I'm off. Say hello to Gwen for me."

Arthur nodded, rolling his eyes to himself.

**…...**

For the first time in a long time, Arthur had free time that was longer than an hour or two. Without princely duties-not to mention, the ability to hunt in the royal forest-he drifted about aimlessly. What on earth did Merlin _do _in his free time, anyway?

Oh yes-talk to Gwen. But Arthur had no idea where she could be found-Morgana spent little time in her chambers, and he had no interest whatsoever in where _she _could be found. Besides, he had no experience in making small talk, especially with someone who'd been in a different class from him entirely just yesterday. What did servants talk _about_, anyway?

There was always Gaius-_Gaius_. A spark lit up his mind, banishing his boredom. The dragon hadn't been very helpful, but perhaps Gaius could give him a clue about where he might find the cursed wishing stone's twin. He might as well do something _useful _with his extra time.

A few minutes later, and Arthur was poking his head around Gaius's door. "Gaius?" Though he technically lived here now, he still wasn't comfortable with just barging in. Even when he was the prince, he never did that, save when Merlin was home or it was an emergency.

The old man was bustling around his worktable, making something that smelled faintly of lavender. He glanced up at the sound of Arthur's voice. "Ah. Arthur. Good. I need an extra pair of hands to grind up that murkweed bulb."

Arthur stared. "The _what_?"

"That." Gaius pointed at a small herb in a bowl next to him that looked suspiciously like a moldy turnip. Arthur approached the thing cautiously-with Merlin's powers, he could _feel _its magical potential. And also, it smelled like rotten eggs and skunk spray.

As he picked up the round wooden thing beside it-a pestle, his memory fuzzily supplied-he searched around in his mind for a way to start a conversation about wishing stones without being too obvious. Gaius had a habit for being too clever for anyone's good, especially his own. After a few seconds of fruitless searching, however, he gave it up. To hell with the indirect approach.

"Gaius, what do you know about wishing stones?" He asked, trying and failing to sound offhand.

The physician glanced up in surprise. "Wishing stones are a myth, Arthur, you know that."

"Yes, I know." Arthur said quickly. "I was just…curious."

Gaius's eyes narrowed. "You are never 'just curious', Arthur. What are you up to?"

Arthur's eyes narrowed in return, not really surprised at all that Gaius was right on the money-he didn't need to know that, however. "What makes you think I am up to something?"

Gaius snorted. "Because I know you, Arthur." He sighed. "I suppose there's no harm in the retelling of a myth." There was a long pause as Gaius added another herb to his brew, stirring as it hissed and bubbled.

" In the days before Albion, well before King Uther brought peace to the region, magic was rampant in the earth itself, chaotic and wild, bringing hardship and woe to man and beast alike. Ancient lore tells of a priestess of the Old Religion who came from across the sea, bringing with her fourteen stones. She tamed the land by trapping the chaotic magic into seven of her stones. The others, she put a void, to balance the chaos and nullify if, should it ever be released again. The first seven became know as wishing stones, for their supposed power to grant the wish of any who releases the chaos within."

"And the other seven?" Arthur asked. He realized he'd stopped grinding the murkweed bulb, captivated by the story, and at Gaius's pointed look, he reluctantly started at it again.

"Before she disappeared, the priestess supposedly enchanted the other seven, magically linking each one to a wishing stone, so that wherever the wishing stone was, its counterpart wouldn't be too far behind, on hand for any idiot foolish enough to use the wishing stone to ill effect."

"Oh." Arthur's mind was racing. The wishing stone's twin had to be nearby, then, probably near where the sorceress had attacked his knights. But how to obtain permission without going to Father or Merlin…?

In the end, Gaius unwittingly gave him the solution once more. "Once you're done with that, go fetch me some yarrow from the forest."

For once, Arthur was happy to obey.

**. . . .**

It wasn't hard to find the spot, though there was nothing (save his memory) to mark it from any other section of the forest. He started from where the sorceress dropped the wishing stone and expanded his search, radiating it outwards from that spot in an ever-widening circle. He searched until the sun was low in the sky, over and over, but found…nothing. Not a trace, not of the sorceress, the stone, nor any indication that the confrontation ever took place. He growled, hitting a tree in frustration as he snatched up his yarrow-filled basket and left.

He made his delivery to Gaius-not bothering with an excuse for his lateness, though Gaius gave him a curious, slightly concerned look when he came in-and trudged back toward the prince's chambers, sure that Merlin would be back from council by now.

He wasn't. Arthur sank into the chair by the fireplace out of habit. By this time he wasn't even angry anymore, just numb, and tired.

He didn't even bother to stand when Merlin finally came in. Merlin didn't seem to notice, though. Arthur thought he was going to collapse on the bed-like Arthur did after a particularly trying and long day at council-but he didn't. He stopped short, in the middle of the room, somewhere behind the chair. Arthur twisted around to look at him, something like worry gnawing at his stomach.

The expression on Merlin's face was not relief-he looked pained, stressed, and dangerously pale, a lot more so than usual. Arthur's heart sped up (without his permission) the gnawing in his gut growing fiercer. "Merlin, what happened?"

His eyes, which had been staring fuzzily out in the distance beyond the window slowly closed. "Armor, please, Arthur."

Arthur stood up slowly, but didn't go to the pile of freshly polished armor on the table. "What. Happened." He repeated, stressing each word separately, deliberately.

Merlin sighed. "Get me my armor and I'll tell you."

Arthur did as he was told. As he was carefully lacing on the greaves-one of the lace pieces of armor-Merlin spoke.

"A mercenary band sponsored unofficially by Cenred has been raiding villages as much as three miles into our border." He said, his voice quiet but stone hard. Edged. Resolute. "I've petitioned Father to allow me to respond."

The second greave clattered to the floor. "You can't go."

Merlin looked down at him. "I'm their prince, and my people need me. I won't sit here while they're out there, dying or worse at Cenred's men's hands."

Arthur rose, forgetting the greave entirely. "You _can't _go. Those mercenaries will tear you apart!"

Merlin's eyes flashed dangerously. "Glad to see you have _so _much faith in your prince." The words were bitter, as was the accompanying glare.

Arthur flexed his hands slightly, an irrational anger prodded on by fear for Merlin rising in his chest. He had tangled with mercenaries before, ones in Cenred's pay. Cenred hired only the best, the fiercest, the most ruthlessly bloodthirsty to carry out his demands. Merlin wouldn't stand a chance.

Arthur glared back, though he was panicking inside. "_You can't go._ I forbid it." He bit his lip, regretting saying those words aloud as Merlin laughed bitterly.

"You _forbid _me? Morgana was right. I must have let my _servant _get away with speaking to me this way for too long, if he sees fit to _forbid _his master now."

Arthur stepped forward suddenly, getting right in the slightly smaller boy's face, fingers curling into a fist. He's never considered _decking _Merlin before-at least never this fiercely-and a sudden, subtle shift in his friend's face stopped him from doing so now.

As his tightened fist relaxed and lowered guiltily-this was _Merlin_, for chrissake-Merlin suddenly leaned forward, closing the short distance between their two faces in the span of a heartbeat. His slightly chapped lips brushed over his, light as a butterfly's wings.

"Sorry." He whispered-a ghost of a word uttered against Arthur's skin-and then he was gone, grabbing his last greave and sword as he strode for the door. Arthur stared after him in shock, snapping out of it at the rough snap of the door as it closed behind him.

A split second decision-which was really no decision at all-had Arthur running after Merlin. He'd be _damned _if he let the fool face those monsters alone.

**A/N: and there you have it! The last chapter (*cries*) will be up as soon as possible, I promise. Reviews make me feel loved =)**


	4. Endgame

**A/N: So here we are, the last chapter! *sniffles* Anywhoo…I'm dedicating this final chapter to LiteratureFreak1, who has been kind and patient enough to leave a comment on each chapter. Thank you! You and everyone else who has read and commented kept my procrastination-prone butt moving! Hope this one doesn't disappoint =)**

When Arthur caught up to him, Merlin didn't send Arthur back, as Arthur himself would have tried to. He just smiled, giving Arthur a grateful look. Arthur found himself smiling back and nodding, giving his unconditional support without a sound.

After a second of hurried walking, side by side, Arthur remembered the greave and the sword, both of which were still piled in Merlin's hands. He stopped Merlin with a light touch on his shoulder. As he looked at him, curious, Arthur gently took the greave from him and crouched, strapping it on Merlin's leg carefully. He then took the sword, buckling it around Merlin's waist with the same tender care.

As he stood up, their eyes met. Merlin's looked a bit wet as he squeezed Arthur's hand in thanks. Arthur squeezed back, and then the strange, yet lovely moment was gone. Merlin was striding along, in control of himself and princely once more, Arthur right behind, secretly proud of him in spite of himself.

As they reached the courtyard, Arthur found that he wasn't the only one who wouldn't let Merlin ride off alone. Gwaine and Lancelot, already mounted and armored, were there, along with…

"Gwen and Morgana." He looked at Merlin incredulously. "Fa-_Uther _let you bring _Gwen and Morgana, _too?'

Merlin had the decency to look sheepish. "No, not exactly…"

Understanding dawned. Going in the middle of the night instead of at first light, the presence of the girls and only two knights…"Uther said no, didn't he?"

"Yeah, and quite loudly, too." Gwaine answered for Merlin, touching one of his ears. "My ears are _still _ringing."

Arthur shook his head, unsure of whether or not he wanted to laugh out loud or scold. "Why am I not surprised?"

Merlin grinned at him. "Because you know me; I never take no for an answer." He passed Arthur to mount up on a caramel-colored gelding. Arthur sighed, shaking his head as he mounted up as well. _Isn't that the truth._

**…...**

Even with their immediate start, with short stops for rest and meals, it took two whole days to reach the village that Uther's advisors had pinpointed as the next target of Cenred's mercenaries.

"Something's not right." Lancelot said in a low voice as they approached.

"There should be people." Gwaine added. From the small rise just before the village, they could see right into the village proper, and the fields around it. Arthur's spine tingled. There was no one in sight, not even in the fields, though the sun was high in the sky.

They looked at Merlin, who opened his mouth to speak…But Arthur never heard what he said. There was a loud, earsplitting crack, and a force ripped him out of his saddle, throwing him like a rag doll over the left side of his horse's rump.

Chaos was instantaneous. As Arthur hit the ground hard enough to make his vision blur, the others scattered, Morgana and Gwen one way, Gwaine and Lancelot another, and Merlin-

"Arthur!" He dimly heard the boy yell. As he pushed himself up, he saw Merlin charging heedlessly toward him. The boy was crouched low in the saddle, urging his mount forward.

Arthur swore. "Get _down_, you idiot!" But Merlin ignored him. When he yanked his horse to a stop next to Arthur, Arthur grabbed his arm and pulled him down, hitting the horse's rump to make it move. As the horse galloped off, though, the arrows started.

Arthur swore again, grabbing Merlin by the scruff of his neck and dragging him with him as he ran for cover. Merlin cried out as Arthur dived behind a boulder sticking up out of the ground like the bone of a long buried creature. He looked over in alarm, to see Merlin cradling his arm, his sword forgotten beside him.

Arthur leaned over, pushing Merlin's hand away so he could see. There was no shaft sticking out of his forearm-thank _God_-just a thick, bloody line where an arrow's serrated, probably enchanted edge had grazed him. As he tried to tend to it, though, Merlin smacked his hand.

"Ow!" Arthur looked at him in shock. He was met with two orbs of steady, almost steely blue.

"I'm not helpless, Arthur. I can take care of this. Go see what's happened to everyone else."

He was right. But still, Arthur hesitated. The steely gaze softened. "Arthur, I'll live. I've known how to field dress wounds since I was ten." Funny, so had Arthur. He knew who Merlin's teacher would have been-a brilliant man by the name of Kai-yet it still was an effort to wrench his gaze from his friend's bleeding arm long enough to poke his head over the rock instead.

The hail of arrows had stopped. From the commotion to his right, all the battle cries and shouts of pain, Gwaine and Lancelot must have already made contact with their attackers. Across the way, to his left, in a small copse of trees, Arthur heard two terrified whinnies, and then two horses were charging out toward the commotion, riderless. Morgana was right behind, sword up, a vicious dark-haired angel of retribution. He didn't know Gwen had darted out of the back of the copse until she was ducking behind the rock with them.

"Arthur." She panted. Her eyes went wide. "Merlin!" Arthur's head snapped back around to look at Merlin. He had torn off a strip of his under tunic, somehow managed to wrap it around his arm, and was pulling it into a knot with his hand and teeth.

"I'm fine." He grabbed the hilt of his sword, pushing himself to his feet. "Stay here." And without giving either of them a chance to protest, he ran, sword in hand, towards the fight.

Arthur swore, getting to his feet. His stupid horse had run off with his only sword, his only weapon, and from the looks of it, they needed help. Even when Merlin joined the fray, it was obvious they were being pushed back. He hardly noticed that, though. All he could think was _Merlin needs me_.

He looked around wildly-and spotted the sword still sitting in its sheathe on Gwen's hip. "Gwen, give me your sword."

She looked at him, confused, almost incredulous. "But Arthur, you have no idea of how to use a sword!"

"_Sword, Guinevere_!" He barked, in his old prince voice. Some part of her-some deep, subconscious part-must have remembered his true identity, because she gave it to him, without another word of protest.

"Stay." He growled in the same tone, vaulting over the rock with a warrior's ease, hauling towards the fight. His focus narrowed; he was back in his element at last. He didn't charge straight into the thick of the fighting, though his emotions screamed at him to do so. He circled around…

That was the mercenaries' mistake, in the end: grouping up to concentrate their offensive, to push the two knights, the lady, and Merlin back. It left them vulnerable to an attack from behind, which is exactly where Arthur struck.

Arthur ripped through them like a blonde tornado, muscle memory instantly taking over as his body whirred through the motions.

That was the thing about mercenary groups; they were a strong force when it came to ambush attacks, but there was no solidarity in the group, and when surprised badly enough, they splintered like rotten wood-which is exactly what they did, as Arthur and his friends pressed from either side.

All the fight left them as they seemed to realize that, though their numbers were greater, they were losing, and when another group-a group of raggedy farmers armed with rusty swords, farm equipment, and sharpened sticks-burst out from the nearest village house, screaming like savages, the survivors broke apart and fled.

As Gwaine, Lancelot, and Morgana helped the villagers chase the scattered group off, Arthur looked around for Merlin, and could not suppress a sigh of relief when he spotted him, walking toward him. He was messy and sweaty, but other than the arrow graze, he was unhurt.

He cocked his head slightly as Arthur met him, a hint of his old goofy grin touching his face. "Now where would a manservant learn how to fight like _that_?"

"Private lessons." Arthur replied absently, too busy making sure his first assessment was correct to make up a better excuse. Although, it wasn't a lie; his first sword fighting lessons with his father and Kai had been private-the princeling had been their only pupil, after all, until Morgana came along and butted in.

"Private lessons." Merlin laughed lightly. "Right."

They were so busy grinning stupidly at each other-each relieved that the other was alive and unhurt-that they were unaware of the sorceress until Gwen half-shouted, half screamed, "Arthur!" But by then, Arthur was being thrown back, tossed into the air and slammed back down again.

As he stared up, dazed, a pale face with gold hair leaned over him. "So we meet again, Arthur Pendragon." She purred. "But this time, it seems I have the upper hand." And she did. Arthur's sword had been ripped from his hand, and the same invisible force that had thrown him now seemed to be sitting on his chest, pinning him down.

But as he gasped for air, something caught his attention: a white stone hung from her neck by a chain, dangling below her throat as she leaned. _The wishing stone's twin_.

"Sorceress!" Merlin shouted. "Leave him alone!"

The sorceress smiled down at Arthur, then disappeared. Arthur watched in horror as she reappeared suddenly before Merlin. He tried to raise his sword to defend himself, but yelped in pain and dropped it, as if the hilt had burned him.

Arthur closed his eyes reluctantly, searching his mind…There. He plunged into the magic, calling it to him. For a second, it rebelled-_it knew Arthur wasn't its proper wielder_-then he felt the shift in his mind. His eyelids flew open, his eyes flaring gold.

The force on his chest vanished, and the sorceress was suddenly yanked away from Merlin. Unlike Arthur, she managed to counteract the spell and righted herself. But as she snarled a spell that made her green fire appear, something flashed above her head, and she crumpled. Gwen stood behind her, Arthur's fallen sword in her hand. Its hilt had made the flash as it struck the sorceress. With a worried glance at Arthur, who was getting slowly to his feet, Gwen ran to Merlin, who was sitting on the ground, dazed.

Though it went against his wishes, Arthur limped to the sorceress first, ripping the stone from her neck while Gwen and Merlin were distracted. He pocketed it, then turned to go rescue Merlin from Gwen's smothering hug, a quiet smile of victory on his face.

**…...**

Later, after the fanfare had died down (the people in town had been as grateful as the villagers, and had insisted on throwing an impromptu party in the street for their prince, knights and lady the second they arrived back, much to Lancelot and Merlin's chagrin.) Arthur was in the prince's chambers, helping Merlin out of his armor. He had insisted on it, though Merlin had all but ordered him to go to Gaius and have his ankle looked at.

As Merlin went to go take his bath, Arthur sat on the bed, absently fingering the cool stone in his pocket.

He had been waiting for this moment ever since this foolishness started (if not quite in this way) yet now that it had arrived, he was strangely reluctant.

He couldn't believe he was thinking it, but being a servant really wasn't all _that_ bad. He flinched as he remembered serving the nobles. Okay, yes it was. But…

His thoughts were interrupted by Merlin coming back in. He jumped up, almost guiltily, but Merlin didn't seem to mind him being there. His shoulder brushed Arthur's arm slightly as he crawled into bed, pulling the blankets up to his chin.

He looked at Arthur as he settled down, a hint of the steel Arthur had seen before in his gaze. "Have that ankle checked before you go to bed. That's an order."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "It's an _ankle_, not a concussion. I think I'll live."

Merlin sighed, the steel leaving his gaze. "Arthur…"

"All right, _fine_." He huffed. He felt Merlin's drowsing gaze on his back as he limped around, blowing out the candles until there was no light other than the glow from the fireplace. He turned around. Merlin's eyes were already closed, but he could distinctly hear him mumble, "Good night, Arthur."

Arthur smiled, in spite of himself. "Good night, Merlin." Merlin rolled over, already snoring away. Arthur didn't leave; he looked at Merlin's sleeping face, once more fingering the stone in his pocket.

He knew the source of his reluctance-he was looking at it. Him, to be exact. In spite of it all, he had grown fond of this new, tougher, steelier Merlin. This Merlin, who didn't hesitate to act…Arthur felt the fingers of his other hand lightly touch his lips, an unconscious act as he remembered the kiss.

He dropped them immediately. Perhaps he was being unfair-the old Merlin had never been in situations like the one two days ago. Who knew, maybe there was a version of Prince Merlin in him, too.

But he knew he was being unfair in another sense. The dragon had been right-this was not how things must be. The burden of prince hood-and eventually kingship-was his, not Merlin's. This new Merlin had steel, but not nearly enough to suit what prince hood and kingship required, and lord knew, as Arthur did, that he was no more suited to be a sorcerer than Merlin was to be a prince. Especially if Merlin was called upon to deal with things like cursed wishing stones and their twins. Arthur shuddered. Yes, he would rather leave such things in Merlin's capable hands…not that he's ever tell the fool that, however.

He drew the white stone out of his pocket, and with a final glance at Prince Merlin's sleeping face, shattered it.

**…...**

When he slowly came back to consciousness, Merlin was hovering over him. The other boy's relief was obvious as Arthur's eyes fully opened.

"You're awake, thank the gods." Arthur blinked slowly. He was lying on the bed, not the floor, as he originally expected.

"What happened?" He croaked. His mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton.

"You broke the wishing stone and passed out." A hint of an annoyingly smug smile was tugging at the young manservant's mouth. Arthur glared.

"Stop smirking at me."

"Yes Sire." Merlin replied, not at all chastened. He reached for a goblet, just outside of Arthur's field of vision. As he started to bring it to Arthur's mouth, Arthur caught a whiff of lavender. He wrinkled his nose.

"That's not one of Gaius's brews, is it?" He asked, the murkweed bulb episode fresh in his mind.

Merlin gave him a strange look. "No. It's water."

"Okay." He let Merlin put the goblet's rim to his lips, though he was perfectly capable of doing it himself. It gave him an excuse to look at Merlin, to study him. He was back to normal-as was he. It carried a price, though, Arthur realized. Merlin didn't remember what happened. The wishing stone's curse had been completely reversed, so, to him, none of it ever even happened. _None_, not even the-_Arthur! _He growled at himself. _Stop being such a bloody girl_!

Something must have shown up in his face, because Merlin leaned a bit closer, real concern written all over his absurdly pale face. "Arthur? Are you all right?"

But Arthur wasn't listening. _Who didn't hesitate to act_…Without giving himself any time to reconsider, he leaned up, brushing his lips lightly over Merlin's. When he pulled back, he noticed Merlin's eyes were closed. When they opened, he stuttered, "W-what was _that _for?"

Arthur leaned back on his pillows, a triumphant smirk on his face. "Payback."

Merlin gave him a look like he was seriously concerned for Arthur's mental health, but as he turned away, probably to fetch Gaius, Arthur glimpsed him touching his lips, a slightly dazed half smile on his face. Arthur's smirk widened as he settled back with his arms behind his head.

Perhaps the wishing stone incident hadn't been such a bad thing after all.

**A/N: And end! *wipes eyes* Hoped you liked reading this as much as I liked writing it. **


End file.
